


Always There

by QueenRisa



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Best Friends being Best Friends, Bromance, Feelings, Friendship, Gen, Hurt, Motoki's perspective, One-Shot, angsty, pure friendship love, season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 16:30:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenRisa/pseuds/QueenRisa
Summary: Motoki Furuhata was the best friend that anyone could ask for. He was always right there, especially for his missing best friend Mamoru Chiba...





	Always There

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: A short (but old) one-shot that I'm actually super proud of still. I liked it!! And I hope you guys love Motoki's and Mamoru's friendship as much as I do and enjoy the fic below lol 
> 
> And let me know what you think!!

**Always There**

Motoki was always there.

He was always there for anything that his best friend needed. A missed homework assignment? Motoki would recite it to him no questions asked. A ride to school? Motoki would go over all the speed limits to get to his apartment. Extra money for lunch? Motoki would empty his pockets and piggy bank to piece together the yen amount.

He was the best friend that anyone could ask for.

But, why of all people, did Motoki Furuhata chose Mamoru Chiba to be his best friend? Many of their classmates wondered this very thing, the two had such sharp contrasts in personality and looks.

Motoki was friendly to everyone, always greeting with a warm and bright smile, and a wave. He was a piece of sunshine to everyone he meant, even if he was having a bad day, that didn't mean somebody else should. The whole student body knew him and was friends with him.

Mamoru, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He greeted people with an impersonal nod or small "hi." He wasn't a social butterfly, more like a recluse raccoon. All he did was study and work on homework. He was obviously quite handsome and smart but no human being could get close to him.

Except Motoki.

The blonde and dark-haired man met when they were young kids in elementary school. Motoki could still remember the small, frail kid who was being bullied, beaten, teased because of his orphan background. It had gotten out that the boy was from the orphanage and many of the boys in his grade began to target the new student, calling him a freak or loser for having no family.

One day, a ten-year-old Motoki stumbled upon one of those beatings, horrified at the display. The small green-eyed boy had intervened, stood up for his new classmate. He remembered, after, the look of admiration and shock that Mamoru had when he had offered his hand. Ever since then, a beautiful friendship blossomed between the two boys and still went on to this day.

They hung out everyday since both went to the same school, Azabu High School. Motoki was able to chuck away at his friend's protective shell and convinced him to join clubs and sports, thus becoming class president and star athlete with numerous medals, honors, and trophies.

And Motoki was there for it all; the track meets, the award ceremonies, the school functions organized by Mamoru himself, he was there, standing with a proud smile that stretched ten miles long.

Motoki was always there and he never minded helping out his best friend, never questioned it.

Not until recently.

It was a subtle change but became more drastic over time. In gym class, in the locker room, Motoki would be shocked to see cuts and bruises on Mamoru's body, but he kept it to himself. One time when he came over to hang out, the dirty blonde found jewels and diamonds in a duffel bag buried in the back of the coat closet, but he just slid it back inside, coming to a reasonable conclusion of some sorts.

Then it was his bloodshot eyes, the aches here and there, his intense studying on crystals, his less frequent visits to the arcade, slipping on his homework and school studies, his random times of abandonment during times of need like school dances, study groups, Unazuki's birthday party…..

Motoki grew more concerned and more concerned as weeks went by, he worried about his studious best friend who was slowly declining and spiraling into something he was not aware of. It was painful to watch him go through it but everytime Motoki would ask or even mention- " _I'm fine Motoki-san, honestly. Just had a few long nights, you shouldn't be so worried."_

The dark-haired seventeen-year-old would throw a infamous lopsided smirk but somewhat, the amusement didn't reach his stormy blue eyes one bit.

It turned worse. Much worse.

Asking for homework assignments turned into asking for tools such as crowbars and wrenches, asking for rides to school turned into asking for rides to the emergency room, asking for lunch money turned into Mamoru giving him an envelope full of yen and saying 'take care Toki-san'...

That was just a few short weeks ago, the handsome upperclassmen walking, no limping, into the arcade with the envelope. His arm was wrapped around himself, grasping at his shoulder painfully but a smile graced his features.

It was a painful smile but it was the first smile in weeks when it actually looked real and not forced.

Motoki had thrown a fit and immediately ran into the backroom to get a first aid kit, only to come back upon an envelope with the farewell words written on it and no bleeding Mamoru in sight.

He got no sleep that night after visiting and coming upon an empty apartment. The power went out through the whole city that night and even as he laid in his bed, eyes wide open in the darkness, he felt deep inside that something awful was happening.

With the intent on going to the police the very next day, Usagi had stopped him before he could fly out of the arcade. Through stumbled words, bitten lips, downcast eyes, and nervous fidgeting, the blonde girl had explained how Mamoru had left town to do some special training or schooling for a little while, even presenting an official letter of sorts.

A tug at his heart told him that it wasn't true but he settled on the answer and moved on.

But he noticed a very real sadness on the rim of the girl's sapphire eyes. Usagi Tsukino was never sad, yes emotional and sensitive but never truly sad. Broken.

Motoki watched as even she came less and less to the arcade overtime, always seeing her walk past with a tear stained face and glassy eyes. Maybe she missed the sarcastic, dark-haired teen too?

Those two had argued, bickered, fought, spat like no tomorrow. But recently he saw the change in the usually hostile atmosphere. He saw the looks that each would give each other when the other one wasn't watching, the more causal exchange of words, the sincere laughs and smiles…. It was quite obvious that his two friends had grown to like each other, more as just friends but neither could admit it.

Motoki was overjoyed at the new feelings, Mamoru had never liked _liked_ someone before, and hoped that maybe he could match-make them onto a date but….

Now as he stood behind the countertop, watching through the window as a smiling Usagi waved goodbye to her friends and as she turned, broken and grief stricken Usagi broke through with tears and a frown.

Motoki felt like doing the same thing. Mamoru had been gone for now a total of a month, two weeks, and three days. And apparently everyone who had known him was feeling the effects.

At school, Motoki would pick up all of the dark-haired teen's missing homework, telling their classmates the same tale that Usagi had spun. Everyone took it well, believed it even if a good percentage of the females looked saddened to hear that the handsome junior was out of town for a bit. He felt bad for lying but he was too busy to deal with the guilt because he was dealing with much more.

Like confusion, helplessness, sadness, brokenness, and most of all- useless.

Something in his gut told him that something big and horrible had happened, like a shockwave of emotion had flooded through the city. Something in his gut told him that Mamoru was in the center of it somehow and something had happened to him but here he was acting like everything was okay, not like his adopted brother and friend was missing.

He should be helping somehow, in some way but….what could he do?

"Toki?"

His fixated gaze turned towards his side and away from the glass he was mindlessly cleaning with a rag, "Yea Unazuki?"

"I'm going to the store real quick to grab some tubs of butter for the cook," his younger sister pointed her thumb to the kitchen door, "Ichio-san says we're almost out."

"Oh okay," he reassured, "You can go ahead, I'll be here." ' _I'll always be here.'_

His green eyes lit up a fraction.

Long after she left, Motoki stood at the counter, right in front of the reserved stool that he taped off to all the customers. Only one person could sit there.

Motoki will wait here, a coffee cup on call, and be ready to comfort and help his friend when he returned. Because he will return.

And that's what Motoki could do. He became optimistic because not knowing and being clueless was worse than anything put together. Being optimistic and happy was the better route to go, it was better to believe that Mamoru would come back fine, confident in telling Motoki everything and Motoki would listen, talk with his friend.

Because that's the kind of best friend that Motoki Furuhata was.

" _Toki-san, honestly you need to stop stressing about my life. I'll be fine especially with you as a friend so don't stress so much."_

He could just imagine the teasing grin and quirk of the black eyebrow as his friend would take a sip of his coffee. But then the picture was gone and what was left was the empty stool and empty mug.

The seventeen-year-old closed his eyes, letting a breath go in defeat, ' _You're right Mamoru-san, I won't stress because you will come back, you have to….'_

And Motoki, day after day, would stand behind the counter until closing time, waiting for his favorite customer.

Day after day, Motoki was always there, he was always waiting right there, looking out the window for a mop of familiar black hair.

Motoki was always there.


End file.
